Super late to the party, but I don't get many chances to talk about my hoarding and talking about it really helps me through dealing with it.
I envy them for not being so attached to things, and for being able to confront things head on. I've been a hoarder all my life and honestly haven't started dealing with it until very recently. I wish my dad would be more understanding, since he's my only legitimate parent, but he himself is a hoarder who never really understood that it's more of a psychological issue than just being too lazy to throw things away. Everyone else in my life has been very understanding and has shown me support in the matter.
I think my dad could have helped me by teaching me as a child the importance of not keeping unnecessary junk and cleaning up after myself, but I don't blame him. He has as many mental disorders as I do, if not more, but he refuses to accept that and deal with it. He still berates me over the mess I've accumulated, but doesn't see how he could have anything to do with it. If he had showed me through example, I would have grown up with a better idea of how things are supposed to be.
I did not have the best family relationships growing up. My mother died when I was still a baby, and then my step mother was abusive. I grew up with my sisters who were also abused by my stepmom, but we never really got along until we were older. My stepmom left after 5 years, and my dad spent all of his time either at work, or on his computer. He never really spent time with us or paid us much attention because he was too concerned with trying to get remarried.
I've been struggling with depression since I was 12. I'm 24 now and still trying to deal with it, as well as anxiety and bipolar disorder.
I've never really had a problem with my hoarding overflowing into the rest of the house. I've confined everything to my room and 1 closet outside of my room, and then my car. I keep everything to myself and I try to keep it all out of sight. No one has been in my room in 4 years besides me and my ex boyfriend who was living with me, who also happened to be a hoarder.
I'm still in the middle of recovering. I've accepted that I'm a hoarder, I've admitted it to people I'm close with, and I'm in the process of getting rid of almost everything I own. I guess the key to my recovery is me realizing that none of this stuff has anything to do with my actual life, it's literally just stuff. It doesn't define me or who I am, and I don't need it. The memories I've made and the things I've done can't be measured by the stuff I have. And it's okay to admit that I have a problem, just like an alcoholic has to admit it before they can sober up. This is me sobering up.